This made sense, so Haiken nodded but hesitated. “Will you find Vixen?”
“We will.”
Haiken gave a small smile then pulled on his helmet. “Then please alert us with word of her well-being. She has helped us greatly, and we wish to return that kindness.”
Sirros slipped his hand into Nyvera’s and nodded at the Guardian. “We shall. Be well.” With that, they magicked away.
“Right.” Haiken nodded then signaled for his fellow Guardians to come closer. They had much to do.
34
As soon as Lorrek magicked onto the walls of the castle, all the soldiers pointed their weapons at him, and he raised his hands to keep the men calm. “I am Prince Lorrek of Cuskelom.”
“Prince Lorrek is dead,” one of the captains pointed out, and Lorrek sighed, exasperated.
“That is what I hear, but as you can see I am very much alive. Now, if you’d excuse me...” He trailed off when he saw Caleth passing through the midst of the men approaching him. He smiled at the king of Athorim. “Ah, good to see you again. Where is my brother, Honroth?”
Caleth held his hand out to Lorrek. “Come.”
Lorrek looked at the pale hand then at Caleth’s ashen face then glimpsed at the men around him and smiled. “It’s been a pleasure.” He grabbed Caleth’s hand, and the two magicked away only to appear at Honroth’s bedside.
While Caleth faded into the background, Lorrek’s gaze fell upon the deadly pale features of his brother, and his heart tightened within his chest. Going to Honroth’s side, he dropped to a knee and grabbed his hand. “Honroth—it is I, your little brother.”
“Lor...rek?” Honroth wheezed for breath as he forced his eyes open. Setting his gaze upon his little brother, he frowned, only to wince when pain shot through him. He squeezed Lorrek’s hand tightly. “How? They said...you died...I saw you fall...”
Lorrek shook his head. “Nay, my brother, I never died. I simply wasn’t able to come home quickly. Now be at ease.” He lifted his hand over Honroth’s chest. “Let me heal you. We can discuss the details once you are healed.” With that, he narrowed his eyes and directed all his energy into mending the ugly wound.
He willed the bleeding to stop, the tissue to fuse back together, the skin to stitch over itself, but to his surprise nothing happened. He frowned—looked at his hand. Had he finally drained all his magic? He shook his head because that didn’t make sense, so he tried again—his hand hovering over Honroth’s chest—and tried again.
Still nothing.
Lorrek’s hand began to tremble as he realized his power was failing him, and in this instance it meant failing his older brother. He shifted his wide eyes back to Honroth’s face and saw him nod with resignation. “I cannot heal you. Why can’t I heal you?”
Honroth merely gave him the faintest of smiles. “Such a pity...I die now. I...believed to see you on the...on the other side, but here you are...here you are, my angel of death...?” His face twisted with puzzlement, but Lorrek began shaking his head.
“No, no! Honroth, you’re not going to die. Do you hear?” He gripped his brother’s hand. “It’s simply...so much has happened, and my skill—I’m out of practice.” Even he didn’t believe his own words as they reached his ears, but he would do anything to keep Honroth hanging on to life.
However, Honroth shook his head the slightest bit and smiled at his little brother. “You’ve...you always practiced, Lorrek. The Master of Magic—remember?”
“Aye, but that was a long time ago, so much has happened since then. There is so much I need to tell you. Please, don’t go.” His voice cracked, and his throat tightened as he saw Honroth’s soul begin to fade in his eyes. “Honroth, please!”
His cry yanked Honroth back, and Lorrek clenched his brother’s hand to his chest as tears slid down his face. The corner of Honroth’s lip turned up into a small smile as he reached his finger to Lorrek’s face to catch a tear on his cheek. When the liquid touched his fingertip, Honroth looked at his hand, confused, then back at Lorrek. The only times he had ever seen his little brother cry were those times when Honroth failed to protect him from their older and stronger brother, Theran—before Lorrek unlocked his magical abilities. When Lorrek discovered his powers, he grew into a strong, silent man, and Honroth never saw him break—until now.
Pain wrecked through Honroth’s body, forcing him to gasp for a deep breath and tense as the pain rolled through him wave after wave.
“Honroth!”
“Shh...” Honroth managed to say through ground teeth. Once the pain passed through him, he sank exhausted on the bed once more and turned his head to the side, closing his eyes. “Tired...”
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Lorrek made his choice. He grabbed his brother’s face between his hands—startling Honroth—then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Honroth’s. “I refuse to let you die!” Closing his eyes, he channeled all his strength and power into his older brother without direction but through simple determination.
Honroth gasped as he felt the overwhelming power fill his person, but it was too much—he was drowning in power. Gathering what little strength he had left, he shoved Lorrek away and shook his head. “No...no...” He sank into the bed again, and Lorrek only stared at him where he had fallen back.
Fear seized Lorrek, and he gripped Honroth’s hand—his knuckles turning white. “I need to save you, Honroth. I’ve done so much wrong. I need to right something.”
“Atheta...” Honroth forced out as he clenched his brother’s hand, trying to simply hold on to life. “I heard...”
Lorrek shook his head. “No—that was one thing I did not do, but it is something I will fix.”
Honroth managed a smile and a small nod. “Could always count on you...missed you.” He closed his eyes.
“But I’m here. I’m back. You can’t leave now—not when I just came back.”
Honroth chuckled. “I leave Cuskelom in good hands.”
Lorrek’s tongue dried, and his throat parched at Honroth’s words. What did he mean? “No, it can’t end this way. No.” He shook his head and searched Honroth’s face only to find it utterly too still. “Honroth?” He whispered, forcing himself to remain still to detect any sign of breathing or heartbeat or the slightest twitch on his face.
Nothing.
Lorrek swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “Honroth?” His voice cracked, and then reached forward to pull his brother into his arms and shook him gently. “Honroth, please—don’t leave. Not now.” But he kept the latter bit of his plea only in his thoughts, “I need my big brother.”
“Lorrek?”
The voice behind him caused him to still then lift his head from Honroth’s shoulder. Lorrek took a steady breath then nodded. “Theran.” He looked over his shoulder at his brother—brothers, he noted since Heldon stood a step behind him, looking bewildered and holding the unconscious form of Verddra. Lorrek also noticed how Theran wore a Guardian suit, and he wondered why that might be but decided he would ask later.
Easing Honroth back onto the bed, Lorrek took a moment to gather his calm then rose from the edge of the bed and turned to his brothers—the first time seeing them in person together in years. “Heldon.” He nodded to Honroth’s twin and knew the death of Honroth would deeply affect Heldon. “I will deal with that later.”
Instead he focused on Verddra’s body and arched a brow then glimpsed at his brothers for an explanation.
“Unconscious.” Theran nodded to her.
Heldon set her in a chair, situated her so she didn’t slump over, and then turned back to Lorrek. “I stabbed her with the handblade—in the shoulder because I didn’t want to kill her. She cast a spell on him, so no one else could heal him.”
“Ah, that explains it.” Lorrek nodded then moved aside as Heldon went to his twin, but Lorrek kept his attention on Verddra. “You stabbed her with the handblade?” He glimpsed over his shoulder at Heldon who had moved to pass him but stopped at his shoulder
, and Heldon nodded, so Lorrek looked back at Verddra and frowned.
Yet Heldon stared at Honroth. “Is he...?” He directed the question at Lorrek though he did not look at him.
Lorrek nodded at the unfinished question then placed a hand on Heldon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I…I could not save him.” He lowered his head—bowed down by the grief.
Heldon placed his hand on the hand that gripped his shoulder and squeezed. When Lorrek lifted his gaze and met his eyes, Heldon gave him the slightest of smiles. “At least you are back and he didn’t die alone.” With that, he let go of Lorrek then moved to his twin’s side to properly mourn.
Gathering a breath to calm his nerves, Lorrek finally set his gaze on Verddra. He frowned then went to her and placed his hand on her forehead, muttering a sleeping spell then lifted his hand off her. “There—she shall sleep until this battle has been resolved.” He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Theran. “Jechorian Guardian?” He cocked his head to the side.
Theran glanced down at his outfit then sighed. “Long story.”
Lorrek lifted his hand to halt him from beginning to tell the tale. “Then perhaps another time. For now, I have an errand I must run.” He headed out of the room, but Theran reached out to stop him only to stop short. Lorrek noticed his action and shot him a quizzical glance only to earn another sigh from his eldest brother.
“A single touch will break your bone.”
“Ah.” Lorrek drew his arms close to himself. “Then you must forgive me if I do not wish to share a brotherly embrace.” He moved to leave, but Theran stepped in front of him.
“We thought you were dead.”
Lorrek gave him a smirk. “So I’ve heard—among other dreadful accusations. Now, if you don’t mind, I have much to make right. I have put it off much too long now.”
Theran nodded and moved aside and watched as Lorrek began to leave the room, but he couldn’t let him go so easily—not after spending ten years searching for him. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Lorrek paused then glimpsed over his shoulder at his oldest brother—who seemed so much younger than even himself, as if he had finally matured so much later than all his younger brothers. Lorrek gifted him with a smile and a nod but kept his secret thoughts to himself, “I’m back, but I don’t know for how long.” He then turned away then magicked to the one place no Orb could take them: Endleath.
35
Lorrek appeared on the desert plains of Endleath and looked around—the same place where he had brought Atheta and Loroth all those years ago. Lifting his gaze, he saw the trees on the horizon and sensed the life of a small city humming beyond that, but before he went onward, he looked back to the ground. Somewhere in these sands his cousin was buried. “As you requested, Loroth,” he spoke to the wind, “I’m trying to fix all things.” With a sigh, he bowed his head then magicked closer to the trees.
Peering through the trees, he saw the city—not nearly as advanced as those of Jechorm, but much more advanced than Cuskelom or Nirrorm. Vehicles drove on smooth paved roads, and light bulbs lit every corner. People strolled here and there at this twilight hour, and everyone wore different styles of clothes. Some had piercings on their bodies while others had paintings along their arms, disappearing beneath the clothes. Some had their hair in practical styles while others twisted it up in a ridiculous fashion.
Lorrek shook his head when he saw their lifestyles and muttered to himself, “I hope Atheta did not fall prey to their fashion.”
Thinking of the princess and knowing he needed to find her, he closed his eyes and spread out his senses in magic. “Atheta,” he sought her out, but she wasn’t in this city and nowhere nearby. Further and further across the land where sand gave way to fields and pastures which halted at the concrete ground of cities where trees were replaced by soaring towers, his mind searched for her aura. Far, far away he found a glimmer of it, and he snatched onto it, magicking away from the small city.
When he reappeared, he dodged a speeding hover car and heard the driver shout, “Watch where you’re going!”
Lorrek narrowed his eyes, clenched his fist, but willed himself not to react. Instead, he lifted his gaze. His eyes skimmed over the houses of carbon fiber and metal lining the street. There were houses built upon houses without a single blade of grass to be found in the yard as the foundations of the houses immediately met the old concrete road.
The sound of swooping hover vehicles lifted Lorrek’s gaze further up, and he noted the hundreds of vehicles flying about in a systematic manner. Neon and glass filled the higher levels of the buildings creating illusions when the vehicles flew close to them.
No one but Lorrek noted the everlasting cloud cover beyond the city sky limits, and a frown tugged at the corners of his lips. Dropping his eyes back down to his immediate situation, he sighed and stepped out into the hectic world of systematic living. This was much more like Jechorm, but through the chaos, he ignored all the twisted auras of this place and latched onto Atheta’s. He would find her now, and he was getting close. As soon as he determined he was close enough, he magicked to her location.
High in a sky-rise in an open air room, Atheta looked at the gathering of her husband’s friends from the Grand Imperial Academy. Having just graduated, each man and woman still wore their finest uniform as they lounged in the common room. Atheta glimpsed at the drinks of each individual, and when she saw one man’s drink running low, she signaled for a maid to fill the cup. When the maid obeyed, the man looked up at the girl, surprised by her observation, and he smiled at her but nodded his thanks and then turned his attention back to Rickar’s tales.
Atheta sighed as she sat back in a quiet corner where she could watch everything. As much as she enjoyed Rickar’s gatherings and his friends, sometimes she wished for a quiet evening with just her family. This thought reminded her of her children, and she glanced up to the balcony above which was walled off by glass. She saw a boy and a girl up there sitting on the floor with their faces pressed against the glass as they pointed at one person and then another and made funny faces.
She chuckled at this but stared long enough to catch their eyes. When they looked her way, she shook her head. Though it might be humorous, they needed to respect their elders. With that, she looked back to her guests and brought her own drink to her lips.
A sudden gust of wind—like the strength of a sudden storm—rushed in, taking everyone by surprise. Chairs toppled over. Glasses tipped over, spilling their contents. With a startled cry, everybody lifted their hands to shield their eyes, and Atheta sat, stunned, but saw beyond the whirlwind everyone instinctively dropped their hands to their guns at their sides. Atheta raised a brow, “Like a bullet could stop the wind.”
As quickly as the wind came, it stopped.
Slowly everyone lifted their heads to assess the damage, and to Atheta’s surprise, she saw an unfamiliar man standing in the middle of the room. He wore dark clothes that appeared to be from the country because it looked more medieval, and his appearance seemed disheveled as if he had been through much.
She sent Rickar a look, and he motioned for her to stay back as he unholstered his gun and approached the man, noticing how other officers in the group were doing the same.
“Hey!” Rickar addressed the stranger. “Who do you think you are? What are you doing here?”
Lorrek kept his eyes lowered to the floor. He sensed the apprehension of the men around him and knew they took precautions while approaching him, but after what he had just endured—a full scale battle—their attempts were laughable. He almost chuckled.
Instead he slowly lifted his gaze to the man who had addressed him. In Lorrek’s eyes was the slightest shade of laughter for any who cared to look that closely. Lorrek regarded the man—an officer of protection, he noted, but a common man who would be nothing more than a guard in Cuskelom. Lorrek lifted his gaze more fully and drew back his shoulders.
His eyes settled on Atheta across the room who still sat, stari
ng at him with wide eyes. No recognition dawned on her face at his appearance, but he wasn’t surprised by that.
Around him, men grew closer with their guns ready, and Lorrek finally decided to address this. “Quite foolish of you to surround me with your weapons drawn. If you open fire and miss, you will shoot each other.” He gestured from man to man, each of whom were in the others’ line of fire if not for him in the middle.
Rickar laughed. “We’re not going miss. We didn’t participate in the most complicated war games and graduate with top honors today for nothing!” He gripped his gun with both hands as he aimed at Lorrek’s back.
Lorrek lifted a brow. “Is that so?” He turned to face the man—a smile lingered on his lips; it would be so much fun to toy with these people and mess with their minds, but that was not why he came. “Let us not test that theory, shall we? I have come for her.” He pointed at Atheta.
Everyone tensed, and Atheta shot her children a look to make sure they were safe and hidden, but to her distress, they pressed their faces against the glass, awed by this strange man.
Rickar never took his eyes off Lorrek. “And why would you want her?”
“Why else do you think?” Lorrek met the man’s eyes.
Rickar hesitated for a moment then thought back on the time before he had joined the Armed Force Academy and changed his life. His friends and he thought they heard an explosion outside of town, so they hopped into their trucks and cars and sped away in the direction of the sound. When they came to the desert outside the city, they found Atheta unconscious. Not knowing what she was doing out there all alone, because last they heard she had gone on a long trip to visit family in another city, they loaded her into the van and took her to the nearest hospital. The next morning, they had no answers, and Atheta had yet to wake, so Rickar took a couple of his friends and went back to the sight where this time they found Loroth’s body. Loroth had been very close to them but especially Atheta. To find him dead shocked this small town, and they determined someone had attacked the two of them.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 73
